… we were one. I was still, a lot. I listened a lot. I studied a lot. I wondered if Christians understood these yogic concepts. Could I be Christian and a yogi at the same time? I lived for the philosophy that I could live a life with out being attached to outcomes. I didn’t have to own what people called me. I could experience life from an enlightened and loving place. I could hear what people were saying but I didn’t have to own it. I could empathize with out being a victim. With every asana and meditation I found my new focus. It was love. It was understanding. It was Peace. I could be the catalyst for peace because I now have a deep understanding for what the exact opposite of peace looks like. Sometimes there’s a re-birth happening. Sometimes, in the least likely circumstances we are being groomed for the next best version of ourselves. Not only can I now stand on my head, I can stand tall on my own two feet. I was being groomed to become a powerful and #StrongBlackWoman #Namaste”
“People ask me how I’m so positive after all I’ve been thru….. When you’re laying in bed naked, next to a bottle of Bacardi and Xanex. When you wear pajamas Morning and night. When you don’t pick up the phone for weeks, months. When you’re afraid to look at social media.
“I know I’ve sown positive seeds. I know I’ve lifted people. I know I’ve been a part of community activations and black empowerment. When a community sticks its middle finger up at you and completely forgets everything you’ve ever done, you’re worthless… You’ve just spent ten years kicking your own ass to be there for everyone and suddenly no one is there for you? I don’t need to be here…. And when you’ve drank so much you can’t see clearly. And when your speech is so slurred you just stop speaking. You hope you don’t wake up.”
“Thing is. I know God. He was kind enough to soften the blow. I promise you, I felt Him cover me like a blanket. I told Him I was out of control. I told Him I was having thoughts about leaving and not finishing all He’s called me to. He listened. There in lied my therapy. Music was written in this prayer closet of sorts. Dialogue with God.
Call me crazy, but it’s better than being dead. There’s no one who will make me apologize for shouting from the roof tops that I have the overcoming story of a powerful and #StrongBlackWoman”